Ode to Spanish (Get Out of my Bed)

Stop esperando me. I feel smothered by the way you put pronouns before verbs, placing others on a pedestal. Take your leech-like diminutives to a motel, and live alone until you can manage to say words without a suffix. Once I was fooled by the strength of your accent, I said, “This language is masculine, and can protect.” Now I feel trapped in your dollhouse. Everything, not only adjectives, but nouns have gender. Loosen the grip of your hands on my shoulders and remove them like Band Aids; let me walk alone in the rain. Seventy-five percent of feminists are or have been in abusive relationships. I will not be another statistic; I will not give in to this fantasy. Te amo. Now became good-bye.